The Portrait

The canvas was his creation, the palette his fantasy,
As he painted relentlessly towards ecstasy.
Oblivious to the world but devoted to his muse,
Unrelenting, beauty and perfection he pursues.

The toil rewards him, with a master piece so rare,
Senses fail; all he does is stand and stare.
His passion breathes life into the paper,
The damsel enchants him into a pleasant stupor.

Lost in the long twirls that flow unbound,
The doe eyed gaze leaves you spellbound.
The lips curl into a smile that reaches the eyes,
Yet beyond everyone’s grasp this damsel lies.


Captivated by his work, the creator becomes its slave,
The word spreads of its beauty due to his flattering rave.
From far and wide come people, to meet the same fate,
One look it takes to pass into the hapless state.

Obsessed by her beauty, his brushstrokes never the same, he loses sanity,
For the damsel cast had her spell, smitten for eternity.






Copyright Darshil Shastri